


And I promise, I'll do better

by Fionakevin073



Series: Long Live All the Magic We Made [3]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Love, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionakevin073/pseuds/Fionakevin073
Summary: Where tragedy strikes Anne's life once more. Part 3 of the Long Live All the Magic We Made Series.





	And I promise, I'll do better

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Hey readers. Wow I’ve been responding to these prompts pretty quickly haven’t I? Lol. Anyway, that might change for a little while because I’m going on vacation and I still have another couple exams to write :( but oh well, I’ll try fulfil the prompts now. Feel free to ask for more. :) This one shot was asked by Guest on fan fiction website, who asked for others as well (which I will work on in due time) but this one shot is about Henry VIII’s death in 1547. Feel free to ask for more prompts in this universe.

_and I promise, I’ll do better— Sleeping at Last, Light._

 

* * *

 

Anne’s children were meant to return to their estates after the Christmas tide festivities when their father grew ill. 

 

It had not been visible that Henry was ill and so they all dined together, laughing merrily. Anne conversed with Elizabeth, beaming with pride as she listened to her daughter talk passionately about her lessons, having just mastered French, Greek and Welsh as well as her mother tongue. They all laughed loudly when George quipped, “Soon enough you’ll be able to become _our_ tutor Eliza.” 

 

He and his brothers had grown well and healthily and were now approaching their eleventh birthday that November. The realm had fallen in love with her children and even the courtiers were in awe of them, regardless of their personal feelings towards Anne or Henry. 

 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the jest, though a smile was playing on her lips. Anne looked forward to meet Henry’s gaze at the other end of the table and smiled at him, her chest warm with emotion. “Do not make fun of your sister,” Henry reprimanded lightly, causing their sons to nod though small giggles still escaped their lips every now and then as conversation moved on. 

 

The boys still resided at Hatfield, unwilling to be parted with one another, but Elizabeth had decided to reside at Hever Castle, Anne’s home. Elizabeth had been made Duchess of Wiltshire shortly after being declared a Princess once more and since Anne’s father had written in his will that he wished her children to succeed him, Henry improvised, having already made George, Mark, Francis and William, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of York, Duke of Somerset and Duke of Pembroke respectively. 

 

Anne’s happiness faltered when Henry began to cough. 

 

“Henry?” she questioned concernedly, “What is it?” 

 

Henry raised his hand, as if trying to comfort her but continued to cough repeatedly, his face turning red. “Henry.” Her voice had risen with alarm as her children’s eyes grew wide. “Papa! Father!” Henry’s face had grown white, a sheet of sweat appearing on the top of his forehead. 

 

“Guards!” Anne yelled, “Send for the physician!” 

 

* * *

 

 

Anne was the only person in the room after Henry had said his goodbyes to their children and given his last orders to his council. Her eyes were wet with tears as she looked at his weak, pale body, so unlike the man she had known in her younger years. But his eyes— oh how his eyes were still blue. A wonderful, breathtaking shade of blue. 

 

“Anne my love,” his voice rasped as he stared at her pleadingly, “Come here.” 

 

_This isn’t happening,_ she thought, wild with despair, _not now. It’s too soon. Far too soon._

 

But she went to him regardless, curling up against his frail body when he gestured for her to do so. Her head was resting on his chest as she listened to his heart beat in his ribcage and sent a silent prayer for it never to end. 

 

“You’ll be alright,” Anne whispered fervently, kissing his chest, “Everything will be alright—“ 

 

“Anne.” His voice was gentle, soothing, “Look at me.” 

 

Tears streamed down her face as she lifted her head to stare into his eyes, struggling to contain her sobs. “Don’t cry my love,” he pleaded, tears piercing his own eyes, “I could not bare dying knowing that you were in pain and it was caused by me.” Anne attempted to smile at him and managed to do so weakly. “I have already caused you enough of that.” Then he lifted his hand to touch her greying locks, his touch gentle. 

 

“You are still as beautiful as the first time I saw you.” 

 

Anne let out a broken chuckle and leaned forward to press her lips to his delicately, before returning to her previous position with her head on his chest. 

 

“You are the love of my life,” Henry told her, his voice only slightly above a whisper, “And I can not thank you enough for all that you have given me. I have caused you so much pain—“ 

 

“Shh,” Anne said comfortingly, “All has been forgiven Henry.” 

 

“I am sorry,” he told her, tears streaming down his face, wetting her hair, “I have loved—truly loved— only you.”  Anne’s lips trembled but she forced the words to leave her mouth, clinging to the sound of his heartbeat. “You are the love of my life,” she told him finally, knowing that it was true, regardless of her love for Charles. 

 

“Thank you, lovely Anne. I have been a better man, a better King because of you. I promise that I’ll do better in the next life.” 

 

“You gave me wonderful, beautiful children,” Anne whispered, ignoring his words, “and have given me so much joy over these past few years, Henry. You have given me light.” 

 

Silence. 

 

“Henry,” Anne whispered, her heart leaping to her throat. His chest no longer rose under her cheek. 

 

“Henry,” she said again, this time with more urgency, “Wake up!” 

 

But Henry could no longer hear her. 

 

Anne sobbed loudly into his chest, her cries echoing through the door and signalling the death of England’s King. 

 

Henry’s reign had ended but another had just begun. 

 

—

 

_End._

 


End file.
